Everyone Wants To Be Famus
by Astrid M. Blackcoat
Summary: Music With Rocks In is back, but watered down. Agnes, Susan, Angua and Cheery start a band. What? Features a wizard band, Agnes swearing, and unashamed nerdiness from the author. R&R, if you please.
1. Agnes

Agnes

Agnes lay on her bed, fuming. She'd been part of the little Lancre coven for several months now, and she was sick of Granny Weatherwax, _sick_ of her. All that nonsense because she had started singing again. She'd just gone home to get her things, and had found her old music sheets. Just _music, for heaven's sake! She had been getting quite good again, then in came Granny, blazing with power, and told her - no, _asked_ her, _politely_ – to stop it. Some nonsense about music and magic only being two letters different and you couldn't do both._

It made Agnes _furious_, absolutely _furious. Why couldn't she sing and be a witch?_

Perdita snickered. **_'You're such a wimp,'_** she said.

'Shut up!' said Agnes aloud. 'I'm not listening to you!'

**_'Why are you so afraid of her? Just do it anyway. Why does she matter?'_**

'Because she's Granny Weatherwax, that's why!'

**_'That's it! I've had enough of your stupidity! We're getting out of here!'_**

Perdita stood up, using Agnes' body. Agnes tried to sit back down, but Perdita was steadfast. She dashed around the room, collecting things. While Agnes protested, Perdita stuffed all of Agnes' clothes, several books, Agnes' jewellery and the music books into a suitcase. 

'Where are we going?' demanded Agnes as her body grabbed a pencil and paper.

**_'Somewhere interesting.'_****__**

'Where?'

**_'Remember the music?'_**

'Of course!'

**_'A new kind's coming back!'_**

Perdita scrawled a note to Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg, and anyone else interested-

**Gone to Anhk-Morpork.**


	2. Susan

-Susan-

Susan sat at her desk, staring at the wall.

It had been ten minutes since the school day ended, but Susan sat, staring, no, scowling, at the wall. The day had been an average one. The rat hadn't visited for weeks. She had, after long, complex and uncomfortable thought, realised the horrible truth.

She didn't even _want_ to be normal.

She'd known for quite some time that she could never _be normal. Having viewed humanity from the sidelines means you can never play the game the same way. But the firm belief that she still __wanted to be normal was the thing that kept her as close to normal as is possible for Death's grand-daughter. And now, with this realisation…_

It had happened during playtime, earlier that day. Music With Rocks In was back. This time, of course, the instruments were just instruments, and the musicians were mostly just bored youngsters. Apparently, a troop of wizard students had started a 'band' called Stibbon's Band. The older wizards disapproved, of course, but the band had proved quite popular, and lots of others had started playing together.

Jason had come into school with a 'guitar'. It was far too large for him. He had played it for the class- inexpertly- but Susan had listened, and couldn't help liking what she heard.

She had been filled with a sudden longing to play the instrument, to explore every possibility its strings and simple shape could have. Later on she was still thinking about it, and what she really wanted, she decided, was to be a Musician With Rocks In.

Tomorrow was Saturday, thought Susan. She stood up, and left the classroom at a run.


	3. Angua

-Angua-

Captain Carrot, Corporal Nobbs, Sargent Colon and Sargent Angua turned into Gleam Street, heading for the Bucket for a post-Watch drink. They chatted mildly as they went.  Some minutes later they arrived at the Bucket. A crowd was gathering.

'What on the Disc?' said Angua, eyebrows raising. 'A _crowd_ at the _Bucket?'_

The crowd appeared to be mostly young and wearing odd shirts, like singlets with short sleeves, and had letters on them that Angua couldn't see clearly enough to read.

They pushed their way inside and went over to the bar. 'What's going on, Mr Cheese?'

The barman looked uncertain for a moment. 'There's these wizards,' he began. 'They're musicians, and they wanted to play here, so I let 'em. Then all these people turned up wearin' them funny shirts... Now,' he said. 'What would you fine officers like to drink?'

The four sat at a table up the front, near the small makeshift stage the wizards had set up. A group of four lanky looking wizards carrying instruments trooped on. The lead one, who clutched a guitar with a desperate grip, grinned nervously. 'Yo,' he said, uncertainly. Er… I'm Ponder Stibbons, and we're Stibbon's Band. This song is called Go Sort Of Wrinkly And Uncomfortable In The Sun.'

The room went quiet. One of the wizards, a young man in a vest with 'Big Mad Drongo' on the back, started to play a tune on his instrument. It _looked_ like a guitar, but it bigger, and it sounded deeper. The tune kept repeating as the rest of the song went on.

The song ended, and the crowd clapped, the four Watch officers included. Angua was still staring at the instrument, entranced.

After the band left the stage, Angua followed the band out into the street. She pushed through the crowd of young women clustering around them, and cornered Big Mad Drongo.

'That thing you play,' she said. 'What's it called?'

'Oh, this?' said Big Mad Drongo, waving the instrument. 'Well, it's the _base_ of the song, so we call it a bass. Spelled like the fish.'

'Thanks.' Before Big Mad Drongo had time to say 'You're welcome', Angua was gone, running down the dark alley towards Sheer Street.


	4. Cheery

Cheery

Cheery Littlebottom sat in her lavatory-turned-laboratory, thinking. She had her chin in her hand, and the other hand tapped idly on her knee.

Cheery was depressed. It was uncommon dwarfs to get depressed, because there's very little time to think down a mine. City dwarfs mostly worked or got drunk. Cheery had plenty of time to think, and she was currently spending it being depressed.

Oh, she had fun messing about with chemicals, making things go funny, change colour, explode or go bloop. Cheery was especially good at the latter two. The problem was, she wanted something else. Up until several days ago she hadn't known what it was, which made it much harder to pine for. Now she did, and she was making up for lost time.

She'd been out with some friends- the number of dwarfs coming out about their gender was steadily growing, and Cheery now had some lovely girl friends- and they'd gone to see Stibbon's Band, the new Music With Rocks In band. It had been good. Really good. 

The problem with _that_ was the wizard at the back of the band, who had been seated behind a semi-circle of what looked like marching drums on stands. There were some brass plates on stands, and two that clanged together. He had hit them with a pair of sticks. Not randomly, but to a rhythm that changed depending on the song, and they were catchy rhythms.

Cheery moaned, dropping her head into both hands. Since the first song, she had been trying to force out the beats that bopped out of her mind, making her hands twitch in time as though she were holding a pair of sticks. It was playing merry hell with her alchemical work. Now, whenever she heard a tune, a beat would come into her head to go with it. Even just listening to the guards singing the song about Lord Vetinari not having balls- the one that made Carrot blush and Angua grin- she had to sit on her hands to stop them tapping.

Sighing, Cheery hopped off the privy and opened the door. She'd seen a set of drums like that wizard's in a shop in Sensible Alley, off Morphic Street, and she had some spare money set away for a rainy day…

It's definitely raining now, thought Cheery as she left the Watch House and headed off towards Morphic Street at a run.


	5. Selecting the Instruments part 1

**Selecting the Instruments**

  


A note- this fic is set post Thief of Time, if you were wondering. Sorry it's been so long coming. I don't own anything except my guitar, my black clothes, a handbag and Barking Will Gravy. Don't steal him, he's mine. Huzzah.

  


**-Angua and Cheery-**

  


Sargeant Angua tripped mid-stride and almost fell over the running dwarf. The dwarf was wearing high-heeled iron boots and a leather skirt. 'Hello, Cheery,' she said wearily, helping the dwarf to her feet.

'Hello Angua,' winced Cheery, accepting the hand up. 'Where are you going?'

'Sensible Alley, off Morphic Street,' said Angua. 'You?'

'Same,' said Cheery, looking down.

'You going to Barking Will Gravy's, then?' Angua asked.

'Yes,' said Cheery quietly.

'Me too,' said Angua, as the two officers hurried down the alley to Morphic Street.

  


Barking Will Gravy was, as his nickname suggests, rather mad. Barking mad, in fact. It didn't show, unless, of course, you mentioned weasels, or things that went bloop. He was, however, extremely good at what he did, and what he did was sell things. _What_ he sold was mutable, but whatever it was, he sold it. With the recent resurgence of Music With Rocks In, he had managed to acquire several instruments from the Street of Cunning Artificers. While many more reputable shops over in Ankh sold similar items, Will's were infallibly cheaper.

Due to the lateness of the hour, there were very few customers about. A few half-concealed features slunk further into the shadows at the sight of Angua. They were ignored. The two Watchmen entered the small, dark emporium. Barking Will _could_ have kept the place brightly lit, he certainly made enough money, but it was the _look_ of the thing.

'Good evening,' said Barking Will, pottering out of the shadows behind the counter. He spotted who it was, and smiled genially. 'Oh, it's you, Sargeant Angua, Corporal Littlebottom. Didn't quite see you. What can I, hmm, do for you, officers?'

'We're after instruments,' said Angua. 'I'm looking for something that looks like a guitar, sounds deeper, named after a fish?'

'Ah! A bass guitar, very, hmm, popular, very. I have a fine one over there in the corner, of you'd care to, hmm, have a look...?'

Angua crossed the room in three strides and picked up the bass. She held it as Big Mad Drongo had, and plucked a note. It resounded satisfyingly. 'I'll have it,' she said.

'A fine choice, hmm, a fine choice, very nice instrument. Appropriate to your, hmm, temperament, one might say?' Will peered over the top of the counter and addressed Cheery. 'And for you, Corporal?' 

Cheery pointed at the set of drums in the grubby window. 'Those,' she said.

'The drums? Hmm, yes. Generally not so popular with dwarfs… the original idea was developed by trolls, you see, hitting big rocks together and making them go _thunk_. Adapted for less, hmm, siliceous life forms, but still not a big, hmm, hit with dwarfs.'

'Don't care.' Cheery folded her arms. 'Those.'

'I can, hmm, see your mind's made up. Will you be paying, hmm, separately?'

'Yes,' said Angua, laying the bass on the counter. 'How much is it?'

'Ten, hmm, dollars, Sargeant,' said Will.

'Fine,' said Angua, counting coins out of her pocket. 'There, ten dollars. Thanks, Will.'

'How much for the drums?' asked Cheery.

'Usually, hmm, forty dollars,' said Barking Will. As Angua and Cheery's eyebrows flew up in unison, he hastily said, 'But for an officer of the, hmm, Watch that keeps our city so safe these days, how about twenty?' Angua's brow failed to shift. 'And I'll have them sent round to your lodgings, no, hmm, charge!'

Angua relaxed. So did Barking Will. Madness was one thing, but blind stupidity was not one of Barking Will's traits. Cheery produced the money, feeling only a small pang of guilt at spending so much. 'You are still rooming at Mrs, hmm, Cake's, Corporal?'

'Yes,' said Cheery, feeling confident. Angua shifted her new bass to a more comfortable position under her arm. They went to leave. Just as she was about to walk out, Cheery turned back. 'And if those drums don't arrive, or if they have even _one_ scratch on them, I won't even _bother_ with exploding things. I'll go straight to things that go bloop.'

Will paled several shades. 'Quite,' he choked. Cheery gave a grim, satisfied little smile, and walked out of the shop, tapping out a little rhythm with her fingers.


	6. Selecting the Instruments part 2

**Selecting the Instruments pt. 2**

  


Apologies for the shortness of the chapter. The next one may, in fact, be even shorter. Sorry.

  


**-Susan-**

  


Susan's black button boots clicked on the cobbles as she hurried across Pon's Bridge. She walked quickly down Sheer Street, right into Morphic Street, and left to Barking Will Gravy's shop in Sensible Alley. Madam Frout's Academy was closer to more reputable shops, but Barking Will's were cheaper, and Madam Frout still refused give her a raise, no matter how many times Susan used the Voice.

She swung the door open, and saw Will, who cringed visibly. 'What?' he snapped.

Susan immediately recognized the signs of a Will who had been accosted with mention of weasels or things that went bloop. Poor man, she thought.

'Are you alright, Will?'

'Fine!' he said with manic brightness. Though this was clearly not the case, Susan let it pass. 'How can I, hmm, help you, Miss Susan?'

'I want a guitar. Six strings, sort of like a lute?'

'I know, hmm, exactly what you're after, Miss. I have a fine one right, hmm, here, if you'd care to take a look?' He indicated an instrument in the corner. Susan picked it up and turned it over in her hands, inspecting it. She brushed her fingers across the strings. The sound, though discordant, was pleasing. She really would have to investigate those 'chord' things.

'Do you have anything that tells you how to play it?' she asked.

'Well, Miss, we have a few, hmm, books, or of course I have a fine, hmm, imp with instructions and handy iconographs…'

'No, no, a book will be fine,' said Susan hurriedly. She'd had some unfortunate incidents with imps.

Will went into the back room. There were rustling noises. Glass smashed. There was a crash, a bang, and a loud screeching noise. Susan was faintly alarmed.

After a minute or two of absolute silence, Will emerged, panting, clutching a large, thin book. 'Here, Miss,' he said, struggling for breath. 'The best, hmm, book I have.'

'Thank you,' she said doubtfully. She flipped through it, noting the diagrams and simple instructions. She closed it.

'How much exactly do these come to, Will?' Susan took out her purse and shook the dust off it.

(To say that Susan was tight with a dollar would be an understatement. One comparable to saying that the Klu Klux Klan weren't particularly fond of black people, or that the Spanish Inquisition were a little bit unpleasant. It wasn't hugely unexpected. She was, after all, a teacher.)

'Eight dollars for the, hmm, guitar, and two for the, hmm, book, if you please, Miss,' Will stuttered. He cringed involuntarily. He was surprised to say the least when Miss Susan, usually tighter than a dwarf, money-wise, removed ten dollars from her small black purse and handed it over. She adjusted the guitar so it was under her arm and picked up the book with her other hand.

'Thank you, Will. If I need anything else I'll be certain to come back.' Susan pushed the door open and stepped out into the cold Ankh-Morpork night.

'Mad as a hatter,' muttered Susan under her breath, walking home quickly.


	7. The Lead Singer

**The Lead Singer**

A longer one... the chapters will either get longer or there'll be more of them. Apologies for the wait. Agnes meets Angua in this chapter.

  


**-Agnes-**

  


Agnes knocked on Mrs Cake's door.

**_'This place looks weird,'_** said Perdita.

'Shut up,' hissed Agnes.

The door opened. Mrs Cake looked her over appraisingly. 'I suppose you're after a room?' she said.

'Er, yes,' said Agnes. 'Do you have one spare?'

'Well oi do have a room, acktually, on the first floor. It isn't partickly big, moind.'

**_'Couldn't you have found a bigger dump? Weren't you trying?'_** mocked Perdita from Agnes' head. Agnes wished Perdita was real so she coul;d slap her.

'Er, I don't mind.'

'Come in,' said Mrs Cake, stepping aside to let Agnes in. 'You'd be a witch, then? What's your name?'

'Er, yes. I'm Agnes. Is it a problem?' asked Agnes nervously. Mrs Cake led the way up the stairs, puffing slightly.

'No, that's foin. Most folk in this house are a bit different. Ah, 'ere we are,' she said, opening a door. Inside was a small, plain room with one small, grubby window. It contained a small single bed, a desk and chair, and a bedside table. 

'Here it is, then.'

**_'What a hole!'_** said Perdita. Agnes ignored her.

Agnes stepped into the room and put her bag down on the desk. 'How much is the rent?' she asked.

'Two dollars a week, plus you'll pay for any breakages and it's a dollar a week for meals. Meals are in the dining room off the hall, the lavatory's out in the yard and if you want a bath you'll have to wait until Saturday.'

'Oh.' It seemed the only thing to say. 'I think a month's advance is usual?'

'Yes,' said Mrs Cake.

Agnes rifled through her bag and removed twelve dollars in Morporkian dollars. She gave it to Mrs Cake, who counted it carefully.

'Foin, foin. If you need anything, moi room is downstairs next to the kitchen.'

A woman in a breastplate and leather with long, ash blonde hair came up the stairs. Under her arm she carried a large instrument, similar to Magrat's guitar.

'Oh, Angua!' said Mrs Cake. 'Agnes, this is Angua, she's in the room opposite yours. Angua, this is Agnes. She's a witch from Lancre.'

'How did you know?' said Agnes, surprised.

'Lancre's witch country, dear,' Mrs Cake said kindly. 'Angua's an officer of the Watch. She's from Uberwald.' She smiled brightly and pottered down the stairs.

_**'Angua's **_**weird****_...'_**

'Shut up!'

'Excuse me?'

'Not you. Sorry.'

Angua looked at Agnes oddly. 'If it's not too forward,' said Angua, 'Why'd you come to Ankh-Morpork?'

'I'm not sure,' said Angua nervously.

_**'To get away from Lancre, silly!' **_said Perdita.

'Well, if you need work, take my advice and avoid the Guild of Seamstresses.'

'Why not? My needlework's pretty good.'

'Erm…' said Angua, leaning in to whisper in Agnes' ear. Agnes' eyebrows raised.

'Oh.'

Perdita snickered.

'Listen, if you really need a job, we need someone to clear up around the Watch house quite desperately. Come with me tomorrow and I'll see what I can arrange.'

**_'Clearing up? _Clearing up?_ Where's your pride?'_** said Perdita. Agnes thought a swearword. Perdita nearly fainted in surprise.

'Oh,' said Agnes. 'Thank you. Just knock when you're leaving... by the way, what _is_ that instrument?'

'This? It's called a bass,' said Angua, holding up the instrument. 'I just bought it.'

'Interesting,' said Agnes. 'I'd best get to bed,' she said.

'Me too,' said Angua, going into her room and closing the door.

'Odd woman, said Agnes under her breath.

**_'You've gone peculiar,'_** said Perdita uncertainly.

'No. I'm just ignoring you,' said Agnes aloud.

**_'That's what I mean,'_** said Perdita.

Agnes smiled.


End file.
